


It's the Fear

by cupcakesnsarcasm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunting, Sex, Smut, Vampire killing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7141847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakesnsarcasm/pseuds/cupcakesnsarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She walked in on a vampire attack, and the vampire planned to make her its next victim.  Fighting back is her only option.  When help arrives in the form of the Winchesters, she's learned too much about their world to ever go back...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Fear

                The vampire attack hadn’t been pretty.

                When she’d walked into the store, things just seemed off.  The clerk was nowhere to be seen, the phone was ringing, and there was a different odor in the air.  Usually Gracie, the pretty brunette, was at the counter, smiling at anyone who came through the door. The smell of baking bread was warm and welcoming on most days, but today things had been burned.  Even that smell was different, heavier somehow, as if it was tinged with extra salt. 

                She waited at the counter a moment, thinking the staff was out back, fixing whatever had gone bad in the ovens.  When no one came, she popped her head around the corner, beginning to worry that someone had gotten hurt in the kitchen, and that they were lying there, hurt and bleeding.  Stepping gingerly, she entered the staff-only area, calling out softly.  “Hello?  Anyone here?  Gracie?  Is everything okay?”

                Halfway to the back of the store, her foot caught on something.  She looked down, and suddenly things were in slow motion.  An arm was protruding from beneath a table, a puddle of blood spreading from it.  Her eyes followed the arm, her body leaning down to look, and she found Gracie, eyes open, face frozen in a scream, a jagged gash across her neck.  There was no coming back from a wound like that; whatever had ripped her throat apart did not mean for her to survive.

                She didn’t scream, just blinked and backed away quickly.  When her back was against the wall, she began to breathe heavily, and reached into her pocket to pull out her phone.  Before she could get it, a cold hand clamped across her mouth, and another one grabbed her wrist.  “Ah ah ah!” A sharp voice cut into her thoughts.  “No phone calls, dear.”  The hands spun her around, still keeping her mouth covered.  Her phone disappeared from her pocket, grabbed and thrown across the room to shatter.  It hadn’t been a wall she’d backed into; it had been this man, hard and angular, with a grip like a vise.  “Now what am I going to do with you?” He held her wrist tightly, but uncovered her mouth to run his hand along the side of her face, down her neck.  He gripped her chin and tilted her head to one side, roughly, leaning in to run his nose along her neck.  He sighed, breathing on her, and then leaned back to look in her face.  “I had planned to eat in today, but now I think I’ll take you to go – a little something for later.”

                She was confused until he bared his teeth at her.  Fangs slid into place, and then she understood.  Vampires weren’t the pretty sparkly Hollywood creatures people dreamed about; they were the sharp-toothed sociopaths that reigned in the nightmares of children.  And this one wanted to eat her, like it had eaten Gracie.

                He began to drag her along behind him, holding her wrist so tightly that her bones felt like they might break.  He was moving toward the exit, quickly, and she knew that if he got her out the door she’d die.  She scanned their path, searching desperately for anything she could use as a weapon.  On the counter, just to her right, was a huge serrated knife, probably used to slice bread.  As he moved past it, she lunged to the right, feeling the strain in her arm, and she grabbed the weapon.  Putting all her force behind the blow, she swung it toward his arm, hoping to force him to release her.  As it made contact, she yanked back toward herself, slicing deeper with its teeth.  The vampire howled and the blade cut deep, and he released her from his grip.  She darted away, still holding the blade, running back to the kitchen entrance. 

                With preternatural speed the vampire came after her, grabbing her collar and yanking her backwards.  He threw her across the room, and she slammed into the wall.  She saw stars and the knife fell from her grip, leaving her winded and helpless.  Snarling, the vampire advanced, cursing at her violently, blood dripping from its arm.  She scrabbled for the knife, on her hands and knees now, pushing through the panic and pain and fear.  Just as she gripped the handle again, the vampire grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her upwards.  She cried out, but instead of letting go of the knife, she swung upwards, burying it beneath the vampire’s chin, pushing it up and out, through the back of his neck.  Blood spurted out as she jammed the knife deep, covering her skin and clothes.

                He let go and she staggered back, flattening herself against the wall.  The vampire struggled to grab the knife, to pull it out, but he seemed disoriented by the knife.  She watched for a long moment, waiting to see if he’d attack again.  Instead, his eyes glazed over and he started to cough up blood.

                In that moment, she knew she had to make a decision.  She could run, but eventually, the creature would pull the knife free, and then he’d probably attack someone else.  Or she could grab the knife, pulling the teeth of the blade through the vampire’s neck, and finish the job.  She remembered Gracie lying on the floor, a petrified look on her face, and she steeled herself.  _You can do this_ , she thought.  _Just grab the handle and pull._

                Carefully she stepped forward, watching the vampire.  He wasn’t really watching her, so she moved quickly, hoping to get there before his hands got purchase on the handle.  Close now, she reached out, paused, and then grasped the handle.  In one swift movement she pulled the blade as hard as she could, using both hands and her body weight, pulling the blade out and across.  It must have been viciously sharp, as it sliced clearly through the side of the vampire’s neck, leaving it attached by only a portion of the muscles and skin and bone.  More blood.  A lot more blood.  It poured down from his neck, faster than she would have thought possible.  The vampire dropped to its knees, eyes finding her now, teeth trying to hiss in pain at her. His hands lifted, just a fraction.

                And then the back door blew open.  Two men stormed in, wielding machetes, moving purposefully through the store.  They saw her, bloody knife in hand, half-decapitated monster on its knees in front of her.  For a split second they paused, and then one of them, the one with short hair, spoke.  “Son of a bitch.” He stepped forward and swung his blade.  The head came off cleanly, and the vampire toppled to the side. 

                The two men exchanged a look then, cautiously approaching her, holding their blades to the sides, but still ready to fight if needed.                 

                “Put the blade down,” the short-haired one said.  “You’re safe now.”

                The taller one, with long hair, smiled at her gently, carefully.  “It’s okay,” he said.  “That’s the end of that.”

                She shuddered, thinking to herself she’d never really see the end of this.  It would play in her nightmares for years, she suspected.  “What the hell just happened?” she asked them.  “Was that what I think it was?”

                The long-haired one laughed softly.  “Yes.  Vampire.  And by the looks of things, you killed it before we even got here.”

                She looked at her hands, bloody and still gripping the bread knife.  _Let it go_ , she told herself.  With some effort, she forced her hand to open, and the knife clattered to the floor.

                “Are you hurt?”  This time, it was the short-haired guy.

                She shook her head. 

                The two men stepped toward her, and she flinched back, looking at their machetes, remembering what one had just done.  They paused, seeing her reaction, and the long-haired one took both blades, walking to a table across the room and laying them there.   “I’m Sam,” he said, “and this is my brother, Dean.” He watched her carefully as he moved closer to her.  “We hunt things like this, and we kill them.”

                Dean interrupted.  “Except for today, apparently, because you did most of the killing.”

                Sam shot him a look. 

                “Which was good,” Dean clarified, “because that thing was going to kill you.”

                She looked at Dean, thinking about what she’d just done. There was blood all over her hands and her clothes.  It had spattered her face, and the spray had painted the walls of the kitchen.  She’d never seen so much blood.  She raised her hand to wipe her face.

                “Wait,” Dean said.  She paused.  “You need to be careful.  Don’t get any of that blood in your mouth.” She looked at her hand, seeing the blood there.   “Sammy.  Get her a clean towel or something.”

                Sam nodded and moved to the sink, running water over a towel, then handing it to her.  “Here.  Wipe the blood off with this.”

                She scrubbed carefully, watching the white fabric turn red.  She turned to Sam for approval.  “Here,” he said, reaching for the towel.  He wiped off a spot she had missed, near the corner of her mouth, and then smiled at her.  She walked to the sink to wash her hands.

                “Why do I need to be careful with the blood?” she asked.  She knew she should probably be freaking out about what just happened, but she was strangely calm. 

                “Because if you drink any of it, you become one of them,” Dean answered.  “And then it’s your head that gets cut off.”  He bent down by the corpse, looking closely at something, before standing again. 

                “We need to get out of here,” Sam warned.  “Anyone could walk in.” 

                Dean nodded his agreement.  “Let’s clean up and get moving.  We need to deal with the body.”  He turned to her.  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” His voice was rough, but there was kindness there.

                “Ashley,” she replied.

                “Well, Ashley,” Dean moved toward her.  “We need to take care of business here.  Then we can take you home, explain a few things, make sure you’re really okay.”  She nodded.  “Why don’t you go lock the front door, so no one comes in and finds us?”

                She went out front, locking the door.  She paused for a second and looked out front, glad that she’d walked today, so that her car wasn’t sitting out front of the store.  She didn’t need anyone to know that she had been here.  She went back to where the two men were, watching as they staged a scene that seemed realistic.  They wiped her prints from the handle of the knife, and moved the bodies to imply that they’d been attacked by someone else, someone who’d escaped.  They asked her what she’d touched, and they wiped all of those things too.  “No need for anyone to come to your house asking questions about this,” Dean had explained.  When they finished, they went out the back door. 

                Sam took her elbow, gently leading her to a black car in the parking lot.  “Here,” he said, putting her in the backseat.  “Where can we take you?” 

                She looked at him a little blankly.  “I thought you said you were going to explain?” she asked. 

                Sam chuckled.  “We will.  But you’d probably like to get out of those clothes.” He gestured. “Where do you live?”

                She gave him the address.  He was watching her, and she had the feeling he was waiting for her to lose it.  On the drive over, she sat in the back, watching the familiar scenery, thinking that it all looked different somehow.  Dean and Sam talked quietly to each other, but she didn’t hear anything, lost in her own thoughts.

                When they pulled up outside her house, she stepped out of the car and walked inside, not waiting for the two men to follow.  She knew they would.  Inside the house, she went straight to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet.  Leaning against the counter, she unscrewed the top and drank straight from the bottle, feeling the liquor burn down her throat.  She paused, revelling in the feeling, knowing it was real, unlike most of what she’d seen today.  Another drink, and the burning spread through her, warming her to the core.

                Sam and Dean walked in then, heavy boots sounding against the floor.  She held the bottle out to them, and Dean took it, tipping it back quickly.  He offered it to Sam, but he refused.  “There’s beer in the fridge,” she offered, and he took her up on that, pulling out a bottle for himself and popping the top.

She started to walk from the room as they sat down at the table.  “I’ll be right back.”  As she walked, she gripped the bottom of her shirt and began to pull it off, leaving her in just a tank top as she walked away.

                She changed quickly, taking time to clean herself up before pulling on a pair of soft cotton shorts and a plain black v-neck shirt.  When she walked back into the kitchen, the two men stopped talking, looking at her again.  She opened the fridge and grabbed a beer for herself, as well as two more for Sam and Dean.  Then she sat at the table.

                “Tell me,” she said, sipping her beer.

                “You want to give her the talk?” Dean asked Sam, picking up his beer.  Sam nodded, and then told her the truth about the world.  Serial killers and rapists were not the scariest things out there; much worse things roamed the planet.  Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, ghouls… Basically, everything she’d ever feared as a child was real.

                She listened, and she drank, and she asked questions. And at the end of it all, she realized that she’d been very lucky.  “Grabbing that knife like you did saved you,” Sam told her.  “You stabbed him in exactly the right spot.”

                Dean weighed in.  “You have to cut off the head, not just stab.  You hit the spinal column, and then when you pulled the knife out and sawed through the neck, you’d made the kill.  I just finished the cut.”  She shuddered at the thought of what she’d had to do, remembering the feel of the knife pushing through skin and bone and muscle, the salt-and-copper smell of blood gushing forth. 

                Sam checked his watch.  “Dean,” he said, “we should go.  Long drive.”  The pair got to their feet, pushing chairs back.

                Ashley shook her head.  “You don’t have to go,” she said.  “It’s late, and I have spare rooms.  You should stay.  You’ve both had a drink or two.  Stay.  Have a few more.”  They looked at each other, deciding.  “Honestly, guys, I’m completely creeped out.  I just found out the world is full of monsters.  I’d rather not be alone in the house tonight.”

                Dean shrugged, and Sam nodded.  “You don’t mind?”

                “No,” she said.  “I’d prefer it.”  The deal done, they relaxed back into their chairs, and she pulled more beer from the fridge.  They talked and laughed and tried to make her forget about her day, telling her stories about places they’d been and things they’d seen.  She laughed along, but in the back of her mind, the thought of what she’d done that day was there, just refusing to let go.

                Later, when Sam had begun to yawn, she sent them off to the spare rooms to they could sleep.  Then she went to her own room for the night.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she wrapped her arms around herself.  Without Sam and Dean’s stories, she had nothing to keep her mind busy, and the fear from the vampire’s attack pushed itself forward.  She began to shake, and no matter how tight she held on to her arms, she couldn’t quell the overwhelming fear.  She struggled to breathe, gasping quietly, the panic that she’d buried earlier taking over completely.

                “Ashley?” Sam’s quiet voice broke through.  “Oh, hey,” he said, coming into her room.  He sat on the bed immediately, putting his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her into him.  “It’s okay.  You’re okay.” She leaned into him, letting him pull her close.  He was warm and strong and solid, and she immediately felt better, felt less panicked. 

                “I.  Just.  Can’t.  Stop.  Shaking.”  She gasped out between choked sobs. 

                “I know,” he soothed her, wrapping his other arm around her too, so that he was holding her in a bear hug.  “I feel that way sometimes too.  You bottle it up and do what has to be done, and then later, when it’s all over, it hits you all at once.”  She nodded and clutched his arm.  “Just breathe, okay, and I’ll hold onto you until you feel better.”  She nodded again, glad he understood.

                They sat like that for a long time, Sam’s strong arms around her, until her breathing had returned to normal and the panicked feeling was gone.  She looked up at him, and he was smiling at her.  “Thanks Sam.  I thought I was okay, you know?”

                “I know,” he agreed.  “This stuff freaks everyone out, especially at first.”

                She lowered her head, unable to keep eye contact with him.  “I know this is weird… but would you stay in here tonight?” She felt him shift.  “I know we’re basically strangers, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I think the only thing keeping me from feeling like I’m coming out of my skin is you.”  There was a pause.  “I think I need…” She searched for the words.  “I need human contact to keep my thoughts at bay.”

                Sam was cautious.  “I can sleep here, if that’s what you need.”  She could hear the concern in his voice.  He was kind and good, and she needed that to keep the terror from taking over.  _It’s like I’m in shock,_ she thought _.  My body just caught up to my brain_. 

                As she climbed into bed, Sam pulled off his plaid shirt and boots.  He looked at her, thinking, and then unbuckled his belt, slipping his jeans off as well.  “I don’t want to sleep in these,” he apologized.  “It’s not very comfortable.”

                She nodded, noticing how the muscles in his arms and legs flexed as he bent and moved.  “It’s fine.  I’m wearing the same thing, really,” she added. She flipped the covers back for him, and he got into bed with her.  He lay down, flat on his back, and she moved to his side.  He let her curl against him, her arm around his waist, his arm around her neck.  She was tense, everything tight, and she was sure he could feel her tension. 

                He stroked her arm with his hand, tilting his head so that his lips were against her hair.  “The first time I killed a vampire,” he said quietly, “I was 12.  Dean and my Dad had been hunting a nest of vamps for weeks, and when they got them, they missed one.  She found where we’d been staying and came for vengeance.  I was the only one at the motel, and she nearly got me, but Dad had made sure I was well trained and I made the kill.” Sam paused.  “Once it was done, I threw up everything I’d eaten in the last day.  Then I sat on the bed, shaking like you were, until Dad and Dean came home.  I made Dean sleep with me for a week after that, just so that I wouldn’t be alone.”

                She felt herself relaxing as he talked.  His voice was so lovely, so soft and gentle, and he knew exactly what she needed to hear.  “Did you… Could you make yourself stop picturing it?” 

                Sam exhaled, a deep breath that had meaning.  “After a while.  It took me a few days.  But I was meant to be a hunter, so I had to learn to deal with that part.”  His hand stilled on her arm.  “You’ll probably never have to do this again.”

                “God, I hope not,” she said.  They were silent a moment, and she realized she wasn’t shaking anymore.  “Sam.” She turned her face up toward him, and ran her hand up from his waist, over his chest and to his shoulder.  “I really don’t want to be alone tonight, not in any way.”  She looked at him, her eyes pleading.

                His eyes were warm, like liquid milk chocolate.  “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he whispered.  “You’re scared and it’s not right.”

                “You’re not, Sam,” she told him.  “I know what I’m doing. I just need to be close to you, to feel alive, to take the power away from the fear in my head.”  Her hand ran down his arm, finding his fingers, and twining her fingers through his she said “Please Sam.  Be with me tonight.”

                He paused for just a moment, then he bent his head to hers and kissed her.  His lips were soft, brushing slowly over hers, then more insistent as the kiss deepened.  He rolled her over, onto her back, and he hovered over her, looking at her carefully.  His eyes were full of desire now, and she knew he would give her what she needed.  “Are you sure?”

                “Yes,” she breathed.  His hands roamed her body now, sliding over her bare skin, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, resting against her belly.  He moved to kiss her neck, making her moan softly, and she found her hands in his hair, tangled in the long strands, silky between her fingers.  His hand pulled her shirt higher, just beneath her breasts, and she arched her back, lifting for him to pull it off.  Her bare skin exposed, he touched her reverently, gently, still kissing her neck.  He moved down, kneading her breasts, pulling the cups of her bra down to free her nipples.  His thumb brushed first one, then the other, and she arched again, feeling like all the blood in her body had suddenly jolted into her nipples.  He pulled back from her neck, grinned at her, and then moved to take them in his mouth.  First one, licking, sucking, biting, then the other.  She gasped beneath his mouth, hands still in his hair, breasts pushed up unnaturally by the cups of her bra.  This was heaven.

                After a few moments, Ashley let her hands move down Sam’s back, running her fingers beneath the neck of his shirt, touching his bare skin.  He lifted his head and propped himself on one elbow, using the other to grasp the neck of his shirt and pull it overhead.  She reached behind herself and released her bra, freeing her breasts completely.  Then she tugged Sam down again, pulled his warm, smooth skin against hers, and kissed him.  This was what she needed, what she wanted, what she loved. 

                As they kissed, mouths crushed together with the need that their bodies felt, she reached a hand between them and found the waistband of his boxer briefs.  Her fingers brushed over his cock, finding it hard and ready, and he moaned into her mouth.  She slipped her hand beneath the fabric, palming the hot flesh, stroking it gently.  She broke the kiss.  “Sam.  Lie back.”  Her voice was quiet, but his breathing was loud as she slid his underwear off.  His cock was large, bigger than the other men she’d been with, but then again, he was the tallest man she’d been with.  She wrapped her hand around it, just taking its measure, and pumped a few times, slowly, watching his face.  His eyes were bright, full of arousal, full of wanting.  She kissed his chest, working her way down his body, keeping her hand moving, priming him for her mouth.  When she reached his cock, she took it all in, starting slowly with the top, and moving all the way down, burying it deep in her throat.  Sam made a sound, a small sound of pleasure, and she pulled back, starting the process all over again.  At the head, she swiped her tongue in flat strokes, hitting the underside of the ridge, causing Sam to make that sound again.  Then she slid it deeper, all the way again, and repeated the process.  Sam’s muscles were tight; she could see his thighs straining and his abs contracting as he felt the pleasure ring through him.

                “Enough, enough,” he panted.  She raised her head to look at him, and he reached to pull her up.  “I’ll come.  God, you’re good at that, and I could let you do it all night, but I want to be inside you when I come.”  His words sent tremors through her, and she smiled at him, knowing that even though he was a stranger to her, he had figured out what she needed that night.  He kissed her, reaching between her legs to stroke her.  His long fingers parted her folds, finding her wet and ready, and zeroed in on her clit almost immediately.  He stroked her, rubbing his fingers in little circles over her pleasure button, smiling against her mouth as she stiffened and moaned.  He slipped one finger, then two, inside her, and his thumb still pressed against her clit, and she came, rolling her hips toward him and her head back, faster than she’d ever come before.  Gasping, she said his name, holding his arm to keep his fingers inside her, to keep him close. 

                Sam smiled, enjoying her pleasure, moving his lips to her neck again while she came.  When her shudders had stopped, he pulled his fingers free, and she slipped her own shorts off her hips.  She reached to the bedside table to get a condom, and unrolled it over Sam’s cock.  “I need you,” she said breathlessly.  “Please.”

                Sam moved to lie back, to let her climb on top and take control, but she stopped him. “No,” she said, and she lay back, pulling him on top of her.  She wanted his weight, his warmth, on top of her, and their skin pressed close together.  He nudged her legs further apart with his knee, positioning himself at her entrance.  She’d be tight, she knew, for him.  He pushed in slowly, torturously, and she thought to herself that this was the best part, it was always the best part.  The feeling of fullness, of closeness, nearly made her come again, before he even started to move.  He watched her closely, and she watched him, each seeing flickers of pleasure on the other’s face, enjoying the sweet teasing that a slow fuck could be.  When Sam was all the way in, he stopped, and they kissed again, mouths and tongues on fire, full of wanting and need.  And then he began to move.

                Long, slow strokes.  Sam was letting it build, taking his time, pulling nearly all the way out before sliding in again.  “God, you’re so tight,” he murmured in her hair, licking a path up her neck and nipping at her earlobe.  She shivered, the sensations magnified by the full body contact.  She moaned against his skin, buried beneath him, and pulled her legs up to hitch them around his waist, pulling him tighter to her body, using her heels to lock his body against hers.  He began to speed up, more force in his thrusts, and with each push, he ground against her clit, sending bolts of pleasure through her.  Her hands were all over his back – in his hair, on his ass, nails against skin – and he moved faster again, short panting breaths coming from him as he neared his own orgasm.  Hers was building too, building quickly, and she tightened her grip on him, breathing in gasps and cut off squeals. 

                “Ah. Ah. Sam.  Oh my god,” she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t make her mouth do anything but moan, biting her own lip, face buried in his shoulder.  “I’m.  I’m.”  Her body convulsed, spasms of pleasure moving from her core through her whole being, muscles tightening and gripping and squeezing.  She’d never come like this before, never had this kind of release, feeling like she’d been electrified in the most pleasurable way.  Sam felt her tighten around him, felt her come, and he came too, a last few thrusts and a groan of pleasure, his breath in her hair, his face falling into the curve of her neck.  They lay like that, exhausted and tingling, catching their breath.

                “My god,” she exhaled the words, seeking something that made sense for how she felt.  No words came to mind.

                Sam rolled off her, pulling off the condom and disposing of it.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Me too.”

                “It’s never been like that for me before,” she admitted. 

                “It’s the fear,” he said simply.  “After a fight like that, when fear keeps you alive, you need an outlet.  As awful as the fight is, the sex afterwards is always something special.” 

                She rolled toward him again, her arm wrapping around his waist again, finding his warmth comforting.  Her skin against his was perfect, she thought.  It was exactly what she needed.  “Well,” she thought, “everything has to have an upside.  Nearly dying means great sex.”

                Sam chuckled, rubbing her arm again.  “Sometimes I think that’s why Dean likes hunting,” he told her.  “He always finds a girl to take to bed when he’s finished a hunt.”

                “But not you?” she questioned.

                “No,” he admitted.  “Not usually.  I’m not much for one night stands.”

                She thought about that, grateful that he’d made an exception for her tonight.  “Me either,” she told him.  “So maybe you’ll have to drop by some time, and we’ll do this again.”  She paused.  “But without the vampire attack part.  We can skip that next time and still have great sex, right?”

                Sam laughed out loud, squeezing her body against his.  “Deal,” he said.  “No vampires.”

                She snuggled in closer, letting herself drift towards sleep.

                And then, very quietly, just as she was almost asleep, she heard him say, “There is a pack of werewolves somewhere around here, though…”


End file.
